


Little Earthquakes

by Talullah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam at his worst finds out a few things he'd rather not know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Earthquakes

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to half_elf_lost for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Written for slashfest, for tragicamente, whose request was "Sam/Dean; possessive!Sam who hasn't yet realised his affections for Dean and gets all confused at why he's jealous when Dean is with other girls and something makes it escalate to the moment of realisation".
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

Sam tried in vain to finish his math homework. The noise coming from the living room was just too annoying. Sure, he had done his homework to the sound of Dean's music before, and he had managed to filter it out perfectly. The problem was this Sandy chick who giggled and squealed and yapped - the girl sounded like a dog, for Christ's sake. How could Dean stand her? And besides, if Dad found out that Dean was bringing girls home, he would throw the fit of all fits and they would both be grounded, like, forever.

Sam remembered when he had first met Sandy - she was doing a part-time at the school's secretary and she had actually seemed nice and helpful. Now... Sam rolled his eyes at another squeal. Now he was up to his eyeballs with her. If he had dreamed she would become this giggly... girl, he would have never introduced her to Dean. She'd become so obnoxious and clingy that one time he had even whispered 'Christo' next to her just to make sure.

And just what exactly was Dean doing to her? Did that sounded like panting? Sam tossed his pencil and got up. Puffing his chest out, he walked towards the living room, making enough noise to warn Dean ahead, in case he and Sandy were like, eww, making out.

"Hey, Dean. How am I supposed to pass ninth grade if I can't get my math homework done?" he shouted from the door.

Fortunately, Dean and Sandy were not making out when he dared to look in, but Sandy was conspicuously pulling her sweater down. He tried not to think about that.

"Well, mmm, I'd better go home," she said with a demure glance at Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"See you, Sammy," she said as she left. She sounded so sad that Sam felt a pang of something close to guilt.

"Man," Dean whined as soon as she walked out the door, "do you even realize that you always make a scene when Sandy comes over? She's even started asking me why you hate her."

Sam looked at the bulge in Dean's jeans and at the disappointment in his face. Dean had so few opportunities to have fun, what with the part-time job at Joe's Auto Shop, the training Dad constantly put them through, taking care of all of them, and his finals coming up. Guilt sat heavier in Sam's heart.

"I'm sorry man... it's just that I really need to get this done before Dad comes home and we have to train."

Dean sighed and nodded. "All right, so go and do it already," he said.

Sam went back to the kitchen, but no matter what, his brain had tuned off from math for the day.

* * *

"Katie! Come back here! Please! It's not what you think!"

Katie looked back, furiously pulling her clothes together and gave Dean the finger. Sam's giggles turned into open laughter when Katie threw a high heeled shoe at Dean and then had to go back to fetch it. The neighbors were starting to come to the windows to see what all the ruckus was about. Dean had a moment of clarity and walked back inside, his back very straight.

"Sam," he called from downstairs.

Sam went down laughing, his hands open in feigned innocence. "What, man?"

"You know damn well what." Dean wasn't laughing but he wasn't mad either. Well, maybe a little mad but more disappointed.

"Hey, you were the one who broke our truce. I still owe you a prank, by the way."

"That's right. You owe _me_. Not Katie. What has she ever done to you?"

Sam stood staring at Dean. What had Katie ever done to him, apart from ignoring him and spending all their free time around the house? If he had to tell the truth, the answer would be 'nothing' but that was out of the question at the moment. He started feeling cold anger rising.

"Katie is distracting you. You need to focus, Dean. You should be preparing to go to college and here you are wasting time with a bimbo."

"Katie was not a bimbo," Dean said.

Sam noticed the past tense and felt himself relax a little. "She was hardly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Dean, you deserve better."

"Sam, whom I chose to spend time with is really none of your business. You should get a girlfriend some time. Maybe then you'd let me keep mine."

"Dean," Sam started but Dean was out the door, banging it behind him.

Sam stood in the living room, looking at the door, feeling awkward and ugly. Dean had a point there, somewhere... he _had_ been a brat to Katie, and unpleasant to Sandy and before her Minnie, whom he always called Mouse. But those girls they were... they were... taking up all of Dean's time. He hated coming home and not being able to hang out with his brother. That was the truth, Sam realized. He was jealous of Dean.

Well, they were close. Dean and Dad were all he had and the three of them were alone in the world. Sam took a deep breath, calmed himself down and decided that he would do his best to be nice to Dean's next girl.

* * *

"Dude, I'm studying." Sam buried his head back in his books barely looking at Dean.

"Sam, the year is almost over and you're acing everything anyway. I'm sure you can take five minutes to come downstairs and meet someone."

Sam sighed. "Fine." He was tired of knowing who 'someone' was. Friggin' Ann Duffrey from the pizza parlor. Dean seemed to have a knack for meeting brainless girls. "I'm coming," he added, knowing that his voice was too tense.

Dean shut the door and Sam heard him walking away. He stretched, went to the window, rubbed his eyes and tried to shake the tension off. He had promised himself that he'd be nice to Dean's next girl but he really, truly hated Ann, even before Dean had met her. And she hated him too, he just knew it. He also knew that Dean had been seeing her for a few weeks. The thought made him want to punch something.

He went downstairs, grinding his teeth.

"Ann!" he cheerfully greeted. "How nice to meet you again."

"Like, do we know each other?" Ann replied, chewing her gum open-mouthed.

"From the pizza parlor?" Sam offered, still trying hard, for Dean's sake.

"Ah, the scrawny kid who tried to steal from us."

"I didn't try to steal anything," Sam firmly said. "That was solved that same day and your coworkers explained to you what happened."

"Sure, whatever." She turned to Dean. "Hey, let's go. I wanna have a conversation with Little Dean, there."

Dean stepped back when she tried to grope him. "Little Dean doesn't like the way you talked to my brother." He raised an eyebrow and looked at the door.

"You dumping me?" Ann asked in her dumbest, shrillest tone.

"Yup."

She started screaming, calling them names, making idle threats, but Dean gently and firmly lead her by the arm to the door and closed it. She kicked the door a few times but then quit and left.

"So, want to tell me about this pizza parlor incident?" Dean invited, sitting on the couch.

"No big deal. The girl can't make change - wanted to give me change of a ten instead of the twenty I gave her. Someone else saw me giving her the twenty so there was no real trouble."

"Sorry about that. She did have a mouth on her..." Dean's leery smile told Sam that he probably meant more than just to talk.

"That's okay."

"So, how was school?"

Sam sat by Dean's side, happy that for a change Dean had dumped an obnoxious girl and he wasn't the reason... well, not directly. They chatted the afternoon away.

* * *

Sally. Now by the time Dean got to Sally, Sam's zits were almost all gone, he'd grown another two inches, and they had moved five times. Things had changed. He tried not to be so possessive about Dean and Dean quit bringing girls home. Said it was a waste of time, since it would never go anywhere. A jolt of relief had coursed through Sam the first time Dean said it, but it was short-lived: the guilt for being so selfish quickly overcame him. Later, when Sam realized that Dean was still chasing skirts, he stopped feeling guilty and started wondering just why the heck Dean was guided by his cock. Sam was pretty sure Dean had begun experimenting with guys after he turned twenty, but he wouldn't dream of mentioning it to Dean and Dean kept quiet.

After a succession of pretty girls came the famed 'older woman'. With the girls, Dean always found time to come home for meals and for some family time. Now with Sally, Sam was lucky if they spoke five minutes in three days and when they did, Dean was all starry-eyed descrbing Sally's sexual prowess. He was having fun, that was for sure, and the thought brought Sam to a boil of anger.

Sam had seen Sally a couple of times, when she had come by to pick Dean up, in the times Dad needed the car alone. He hadn't gotten a close look, since she stayed in the car the whole time, but she looked _old_ , like way over thirty. She was beautiful though, from what Sam could see, in a classy, old movie way.

Sam hated Sally. It was obvious she was just using Dean as a plaything. He had to worry about his finals and secret college applications and whatnot, and his mind kept drifting to this shit that he really didn't need right now. Dean was blind and deaf to any word of advice Sam might offer and Dad only smiled indulgently before telling him to mind his own business when Sam tried to warn Dean.

By the time Sam got through his last exam, the thing with Sally had been going on for over two months, a record for Dean. Sam was pretty sure it was still just sex, probably hot, steamy and very good. He just couldn't get it. He didn't want to be like Dean, some sort of emotionally disconnected sex-machine, but he had to admit he felt curious about what all the fuss was about. He knew the pleasures of orgasm, even sharing the room with a brother - with cunning and intent one could always find a private moment. He'd rather not analyze the images that fueled his lonely pleasures, though. Despite being adept at masturbating, Sam figured that even without a loving relationship, there should be something intrinsically special about sex. He was eighteen. He couldn't talk to Dean and Dad... uff, goddamned him if he was going to hear a lecture about the birds and the bees. Nope. Sam had his own plan.

* * *

Coincidentally, her name was Sally too. Sam had arrived to school in February and from the very first moment, Sally had decided to be his friend and lend him notes and help him out with the bits he had missed out. She was nice, but she looked a little like the kind of girl Dean liked - a Barbie doll. Sam often wondered if she was just being nice or if she had an ulterior motive, but he had always come to the conclusion that he wasn't that hot and that it was best to keep Sally as a friend than to try anything.

By the time she invited him to the prom, his curiosity about sex was winning over his insecurity and he accepted her invitation. It was a big hassle, the suit, the corny corsage, the arrangements, and he had to do it all in secrecy. Dad would have chewed him a new hole if he found out he had been taking time off from training to become involved with a civilian and Dean would laugh his ass off.

Fortunately, Sally got him. She understood him well enough to know that he'd be a disaster without her help. It felt kind of odd, going through the preparations with her - she felt more like a buddy than a girlfriend or a future lover or... whatever. The last thing he did was buy his own condoms. He had considered filching a few from Dean but that felt cheap.

The big day came and he managed to get out of the house unseen. Sally picked him up in her mom's car and they drove to the prom. The evening was not as boring as he feared: they danced, chatted a little with a few acquaintances, drank spiked punch... and by eleven Sally was pulling him by the arm to a dark corner and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"It's prom night. I think I'm entitled to some making out, dontcha?" she said staring at his lips through heavy lidded eyes.

Something inside Sam quivered, even as his hands touched waist.

"We've been drinking. I don't want you to do anything you might regret..."

"Shut up! I had to drink to get up the nerve to do this." She pressed against him and kissed him.

Mr. Wretzky with his implacable timing patted Sam's shoulder, making him blush to his hair roots.

He and Sally exchanged a glance. Sam thought she wanted to go back and dance some more, but Sally had other plans and dragged him by the wrist out of the gym and into her dad's car. She drove them to a known 'love' spot and parked.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted this. His dick wanted it, that was for sure. He had been hard all night, his thoughts filled with the same images that went with his solitary sessions. But why were his palms sweating?

Sally straddled him and forced him to focus on her. With her dress bunching around her hips, she rubbed against him. He could feel her hot and wet through the suit pants, and without thinking he grabbed her hips with his hands and things started rolling so fast that ten minutes later he was covered in sweat, had his shirt and fly open, and an unhappy Sally in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say through the haze. It had been too quick, and he had tried to put the condom but it had slipped and he was sure that she had enjoyed it even less than he did. She leaned back just enough to look at him.

"It's okay. I wasn't expecting the first time to be any good. I just wanted it to be with someone I liked."

She leaned in to kiss him. Sam gulped and forced himself to kiss her back. He just wanted to go home, clean the mess in his lap and go to bed.

"Do you think you'll get pregnant? I'm sorry, I'm-"

"Don't worry. I'm taking the pill."

Sam lifted an eyebrow.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," Sally admitted.

"I'm sorry. I wish it had been better for you."

"Wanna try again?" Sally sweetly invited.

No, Sam didn't, but he felt he owed her something. He closed his eyes and kissed her again, tried to take it slow, to touch her in the right places. At first he could see that she was making an effort too, but then something changed and she started responding differently. Sam let the moment carry him, closed his eyes to this world where his caresses were clumsy and let his hands follow the smooth, practiced movements of the hands in his fantasies. Now and then Sally's heavy breathing penetrated the fantasy and he knew he was doing something right. When he entered her again, she gasped and cringed, but he was gentle and waited for her to move against him before continuing. The things in his mind, the warmth around him, the pants and moans, all mingled to create something that was almost perfect. He felt the exact same moment when Sally clenched around him, moaning through gritted teeth as she rode the waves of her orgasm. As soon as she finished, he held her hips and pumped up until he came.

"Mmmawdeeea!" he grunted, falling back against the seat.

Sally followed his movement, draping herself all over him, and whispered, "I love you."

Sam tensed and was sure she felt him. "I... like you a lot too."

Sally huffed a sad little laugh. "I'm sure you do."

She climbed off of him and sat back on the driver's side. "I thought you were gay. I was almost quitting on you."

"Gay, what?" Sam was still dazzled by his orgasm and could barely articulate a thought.

"Well, you're not, are you? But I think you're in love with someone else."

"No, it's not that." Completely disoriented, Sam couldn't think of anything more coherent to say.

"Hey, Sam, don't worry. It's okay," Sally said, sweet as ever, turning the car on. "I'll drop you home."

They rode in heavy silence. When she parked in front of his house, Sam was unsure and tried to kiss her. She turned her head, offering her cheek instead.

"Better be like this," she said sounding sadder than Sam could stand without his heart breaking.

* * *

Sam managed to cross the house to his room in silence. He hadn't seen the Impala, so Dad was still out, but he was unsure about Dean. He was probably with Sally, the other Sally, but there was no harm in being safe. He grabbed his sleeping clothes and headed for the bathroom for a shower. Under the cold white light he could see the tiny stain of blood on the shirt tails and a trail of come on the fly of the pants. It would be a bitch to clean and he had to return them tomorrow in the same condition he had rented them.

Sighing, he resigned himself to cleaning up before going to bed. He sat on the toilet and dealt first with the stain on the shirt. He must have hurt Sally more than he had realized, he thought with remorse. He put the shirt down and attacked the fly of the rental pants with equal energy. He hadn't understood anything. Sally loved him but knew he didn't love her back and still wanted to have sex with him? Sally thought he was gay? Why, because he wasn't chasing girls around and he was in love with someone else? Preposterous. Only that it wasn't, Sam realized, cold fear settling in his stomach like a stone.

He stepped into the shower and let the water warm before getting in. The thing he had said when he came... he knew what that was and why he'd bitten it off. He let the water run on his face for as long as he could hold his breath. 'Dean,' he had almost said 'Dean'. Why call his brother's name at the moment of climax? Why think of him at all? But wasn't that been what Sam had been doing all these years?

Whenever he grabbed himself in the shower, or when he got home early and no one was there and a few times in the locker room after everyone was gone, that's what he'd been thinking. He had rationalized everything perfectly. How many years was it now? Three? Four? Telling himself that he wasn't fantasizing about Dean - it was just that Dean always had the hottest girls so if he imagined Dean having sex with them that was just because they were, well, hot, even if Sam hated the best part of them. Another realization hit and made him cringe at the unbridled jealousy over the years.

The water ran cold on his back and Sam realized he had stayed in the shower too long. He vigorously dried himself off, ignoring the chafe and the soreness in his cock. He deserved it. He'd come with the image of his naked brother's ass pumping into some anonymous chick or his cock being sucked, or other things that Sam didn't want to recall, not now when his own cock was showing signs of interest. He put his boxers and t-shirt on and went to his room.

The lights were on and Dean lay on the bed grinning at the ceiling. Sam ignored him and went straight to his bed.

"Was that a tux jacket I saw?" Dean asked pointing with his chin to the chair where Sam had also left the tie.

Sam turned his back and stayed quiet. He deserved this bad luck, but nevertheless, he wished he'd had some time to cool off and think things through.

"I gather your evening didn't go that smoothly. Still a virgin, huh?"

Sam ignored him. He couldn't do this, slip into banter, not right now.

"Aww, Sammy, come on. It's not that difficult. Even the birds and the bees do-"

"I did it, alright?!" Sam exploded, trying to shut Dean off before he went on rambling about sex. "Now let me get some sleep." Sam pulled the pillow over his head and covered his eyes and ears.

"Oh no, you're not getting off that easily," Dean said, jumping from his bed and trying to pull the pillow off. Sam fought him but Dean was determined and managed to pull it off. Sam tried to rise but his legs got tangled in the bedding and he tumbled over Dean's legs and fell to the ground with his back against the side of his bed.

"Dean," Sam said as he tried to disentangle himself. Dean started getting up slowly, rubbing his back where it hurt.

"Sorry," Sam said.

"You should be, you uptight little ass," Dean grunted slipping into his own bed. He tossed Sam the pillow with more force than necessary.

Dean put out the light and fell asleep within minutes, his quiet breathing punctuating Sam's thoughts of remorse and guilt.

* * *

"You what?" Dad shouted. "You walk out that door to college and you don't come back in."

Sam's jaw clenched. He was expecting no different reaction from his father. "Fine," he said, and turned to leave the kitchen of their new apartment, 240 miles away from the two Sallies and the site of ugly realizations. Dad held him by the elbow and Sam knew he would go but not without a fight.

* * *

Three days later, the fight finally ended with Dad sulking into a deep silence marked by stolen glances laden with a mix of feelings too complex for Sam to fully define. His heart broke, but he wanted this. He wanted California and a normal life with no monsters and no brother to love. He would forget Dean, at least in that way. Everyone knew that college was the place to have sex and girlfriends and boyfriends and in-betweens. Sam knew he would experiment and maybe even find someone who took his mind in other directions.

Before prom night, he wanted to go, but family loyalty kept him torn; now, he had no choice. He was only sorry to leave Dean that way, with the heavy silence that had grown between them since that night.

* * *

"Sam?"

"Huh?" Sam blinked, trying to suppress a yawn. He had been deep asleep and judging from the angle of the moonlight it was well past two. It was his last night home but he was leaving at eleven so he didn't begrudge being awakened, not by Dean.

"I can't sleep. You can't go like this," Dean said, starting one of his rehearsed speeches as he sat on the edge of Sam's bed. "We need to talk."

Sam rubbed his eyes, yawned again and sat up in the bed. Dean was in his sleeping boxers and nothing else. Sam gulped and averted his eyes. "Sure."

"You won't even look me in the eye," Dean said.

Sam forced himself to look into Dean's eyes. "There." It came out wrong, too aggressive, but for a change, Dean didn't fight back.

"Man, was it something I did? I know I wasn't there for you, and I didn't mean to tease you, well, just a little, but, ummm, I don't know."

"It was nothing. We're okay." Sam's face burned with the lie.

"Like hell we are!"

Sam leaned back and looked at Dean. "Okay, I know I've been weird lately," he admitted. "It's this 'going to college' business."

"Bullshit. You've been like this since prom night. I can't even believe you went to a fucking prom without telling me. And I don't know what went up your ass, but you've been weird as fuck ever since that night. You cringe when I touch you, ferchristsake. Don't tell me that 'we're okay', coz we sure as hell aren't."

Sam stared intently at his hands clutching the eiderdown against his belly. Yes, Dean was right: Sam had tried hard to behave the same as usual but he knew he had been failing. The worst part was when they had moved; with Sally left behind, Dean started spending more time home again and every time they crossed in the hallway, met in the kitchen, went to their room, and so on, Sam wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it. His eyes couldn't land on Dean without his heart racing and his cheeks flushing. He was acting like a fucking scorned high school girl, but he didn't know how to do it differently. He was paralyzed.

He nodded. "Yeah, man, I know you're right. I'm sorry. It has nothing to do with you, it's just something in my head, okay?"

Dean cocked his head, trying to get Sam to look at him. "Sam, you've never kept a secret from me. What is it that you're not telling me?"

"Nothing, man." Sam said in a knee-jerk reaction, realizing a fraction of a second later how absurd he sounded. He buried his face in his hands, arms around his knees and took a deep breath. "Can we just not talk about this?" he asked.

Dean scooted over and wrapped his arms around Sam. Sam tensed, but Dean only held him tighter. "C'mon, man," he whispered in his ear. "I hate seeing you like this. I hate this."

"It's going to be better. Next time I see you it will be better. I promise," Sam whispered back, relaxing into Dean's arms. This was his big brother, the same scent, the same strong arms, the same warm touch he had known all his life. He could relax into this. He did.

Dean was rarely emotive and his displays of affection had long turned into manly pats in the back and the banter that disguised concern with offbeat humor. Moments like these were rare, moments when he showed vulnerability and open affection. Sam was just waiting for the moment when Dean would land a pat on his back, break the hug and make some not-so-funny remark about something, probably the length of his hair or the amount of available pussy at Stanford.

Dean did neither. He rubbed Sam's back kind of briskly, then slower and moved his head to land a kiss on Sam's cheek. Sam remembered the exact last time when Dean had kissed him: he was six and Dean was ten. A distant voice in his mind told him what Dean's peck was: a big brother saying goodbye to the baby. They were so close, even with all the shit of the last two months. There was no one else to depend on, to trust, to love. Dean's kiss told him all that but Sam was hurting too much to think straight.

He gently placed his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed him back. Dean's eyes were shimmering in the moonlight. He sniffed. Sam smiled, thinking on how badly he would tease Dean tomorrow for this moment of sentimentality, only that he wouldn't be there tomorrow or any other day after. He was going for good. His mouth quirked, the air became a weight in his lungs and he knew... Still holding Dean by his shoulders, He lunged forward and landed a hard kiss on Dean's lips. Dean went back a little but Sam chased him with his lips, his eyes closed, not wanting to see if Dean was disgusted or surprised.

"Man," Dean said, his voice rough.

Sam opened his eyes. Dean's face was frighteningly devoid of expression.

"Wow."

Sam waited, hoping that Dean would come up with something more eloquent to say. Dean went on with his monosyllable words.

"I... Shit." Dean rubbed his forehead covering his eyes with his hand. "Was this why you were-?"

"Yeah. But I'm going tomorrow. I'm sorry. I wish I could have left without doing this. It was the heat of the moment."

Dean snorted. "I thought you hated my music."

Sam frowned, recognized the reference and saw Dean's attempt of humor for what it was: Dean was scared. Why would Dean be scared of all things? Why wasn't he jumping up, shouting at him, _doing something_?

"Dean."

Dean looked at him. He looked worried, biting his lip like that.

"Listen, man, you don't have to go away because of this. Shit. It was probably my fault, anyway. Sam, stay home."

"What, and pretend I don't feel what I feel? That this never happened?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. I mean it'll be awkward but we'll get over it."

"Dean, listen to yourself. I'm tired of lying and having secrets and being different from everyone else."

"What's so special about normal?"

"Don't you want to be loved? To love someone? All those girls..."

"Mean more than you think. I take what I can get and I give as good as I got in return." Dean lifted his chin defiantly.

"Well, I want more."

Dean plunged forward, crushing Sam's lips with his. His eyes were shut so tight that Sam suspected he felt more disgust than anything else. He pushed Dean away.

"What," Dean asked. He licked his lips before continuing, "Didn't you want someone who loves you? Well, here I am."

"You don't love me like that."

"Don't be so sure."

"You're just saying that and you know it."

Dean shook his head. "I love you every other way. Just give me a moment - I just need a little time to process this thing. Just don't go because of this."

Sam swallowed the knot in his throat. He wanted to say 'yes'. This home on the road, this older brother and their sergeant dad were all he knew of life. The people along the way, they were just landmarks of sorts. What was he going to do at Stanford all alone? Dean was there, offering something that he hadn't asked for, but that he wanted so badly. He knew there was only one thing to say.

"Dean, you know this would never go anywhere and if Dad found out it would kill him."

Dean snorted. "Dad spends so much time away he wouldn't know it if we spread posters around town."

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Dean bit his lips, licked them, and covered Sam's hands with his. "Don't say that," he whispered

He pulled Sam closer, kissed him, this time softer, not just lips pressing, but tenderly touching, tongue darting over Sam's lips, asking entrance, gently probing. Sam had always thought that Dean was most likely a great kisser, from what he had seen with the girlfriends; now he was sure. Sam's heart raced but he didn't feel clumsy or shy; he just felt right. For the first time in weeks his mind wasn't running in circles, he wasn't tense; he was simply living in the moment and the moment was perfect.

Dean lowered him to the bed until they were lying side by side. His skin was smooth and warm, perfect to the touch as it was to the eye. Sam wanted to reach every scar, from the large claw mark on the small of Dean's back to the little bump that remained where a mole had been removed. Dean kissed him so sweetly, letting him explore, touching him where he could, as the bedding was still between them.

"Wait a sec," he said after a few moments. He quickly rose and slipped beneath the covers with Sam. Sam held him and they kissed again, as their bodies adjusted to each other. Sam was suddenly overly conscious of his erection, but Dean's brushed against his hip, drawing a gasp from him.

"Is this alright," Dean immediately asked. "I don't want, I mean you-"

"It's okay. I was just surprised," Sam said, drawing Dean closer for another kiss. He would probably live to regret this, but at that moment he couldn't think of a more perfect time in his life. He draped a leg over Dean's, letting him feel his arousal, grinding against his brother as they moved to adjust.

"Take the shirt off," Dean whispered. His voice was so low and breathy that Sam nearly came in his shorts listening to it. He obeyed, tossing it to the floor over Dean's head. Dean pulled him back down into his arms and kissed him deeply before moving to nibble Sam's jaw line until it met his ear. Dean tried to kiss the ear too but Sam was ticklish and so Dean settled lower, at the point where Sam's jaw, ear and neck met, kissing there so expertly that he had Sam squirming. Dean's lips moved lower, threading the line of the neck until it met the clavicle. Dean spent a long time kissing Sam there, until Sam realized it was the same spot where the bone had been broken in a hunting accident.

Sam ran a hand through the spikes of Dean's hair. "Hey," he called softly, "bygones...".

Dean glanced up and accepted Sam's silent message. He deposited one last kiss, and moved lower, exploring Sam's pecs, teasing his nipples with his tongue. Sam had never realized they were so sensitive and soon he had to push Dean away.

Dean settled on the pillow, looking intently at Sam. His gaze carried such a load of certainty, of serene acceptance, that Sam was unnerved.

"Dean," he gasped.

Dean kissed him and pushed his hips closer, rubbing against Sam. As the intensity of the kissing and the grinding grew, Dean's hand trailed from the small of Sam's back where it had been resting, to the hem of his boxers, then tentatively under the elastic band, the fingers gentle and patient. Sam answered the unspoken question by pushing Dean's boxers down and Dean wasted no time following his example.

Sam tried to tangle his legs with Dean's but the boxers around his knees made movement difficult. Dean's soft laughter echoed penetrated through his frustration, as Sam pulled the covers down rid himself of the boxers. Dean lay over him, landing a sloppy kiss on his mouth. Their cocks were perfectly aligned, and they moved against each other with each breath.

Dean sighed and rolled to his side. "What do you want?" he asked, the lazy smile in his mouth not bright enough to light his sad eyes.

For a moment, Sam didn't understand the question. "Want?" he repeated dumbly.

Dean's gaze moved lower and Sam felt the blood going to his face.

"Anything," he said.

Dean's hand wrapped around their cocks, moving expertly and Sam covered it with his. Their mouths met, but soon their blood ran too quickly, their breaths were too hot, the movements lost their grace to gain in urgency...

Sam was the first to come. Dean kept pumping him until his body was drained. Sam lay on his side, watching as Dean jerked himself, his hand moving so fast the eye could only catch a blur of hot flesh. Sam placed a hand on Dean's hip, kissed his forehead and Dean came, his seed landing on Sam's belly and the sheet between them. Dean wiped his hand on the sheet, kissed Sam's lips and slumped into the mattress with a satisfied sigh.

"Come here," he said and Sam shifted, closing the distance despite the heat and sweat, and held Dean tight.

"Man, talk about weird," Dean said after a few moments with a faint chuckle.

Sam rubbed his nose on Dean's hair, inhaling the fresh sweat scent. Dean laughing even faintly after something like this, meant that it _could_ be fixed, that they could be well.

"I can hear the gears in your brain, you know," Dean said.

"I know."

"So stop thinking already."

"I will."

Dean turned his face and kissed Sam. He sat up to reach the covers from the foot of the bed and pulled them up. Sam could not process this, Dean behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary had passed, and yet there was his brother lying in his arms like a lover.

"Sleep. We have stuff to do tomorrow." Dean adjusted the pillow and nestled around Sam.

In only a few amazing minutes, Dean was out, sleeping like a baby. Sam stared at him, with thoughts still running wildly in his head. He realized this meant everything but changed nothing. He still had to go. He would build a life for himself and maybe one day Dean would open his eyes and do whatever made him happy instead of this. This was love but it was also another face of despair. They deserved more than just each other.

* * *

In the morning, Sam left for the bus station two hours earlier than he needed. He'd rather wait in the station than to risk staying and having Dean convince him that he should stay. His heart broke at each step. He had never been the crying type - no son of John Winchester could afford to cry easily - but twice along the way he had to put down his bags and ride out the dry sobs. It would hurt now but it would eventually be better. He had to believe that. There was no turning back.

 

_Finis  
October 2008_


End file.
